The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1887-04-27
To "Sybil Snyder"
BY MRS. SAMUEL SHOCKS, nee sERAPH1NA
SNYDER, sNYDERvILLE, VT.

You say that you have noticed it as
characteristic of the editor to volunteer
on the weaker side, and that you were
not surprised to see him ready to shiver
a lance in defence of the much
abused" tiller of the soil. OF course
not! Why should not he stand up for
his sect,' as Samantha Allen says?
But really, Sister Sybil, l can hardly
make out which side you do volunteer
on. Does the farmers wife expect
the earth?" you ask. No, Sybil; she
ordinarily don't, but the average farm
er's wife when she becomes a wife
expects vast deal more than she ever
receives. q do not say that other mems
wives don't find the realities of life
rather disappointing, as well as farm
er's wives.) And do not assert that
the farmer himself always finds an
earthly paradise when he expects it.
1t is a melancholy fact that the realities
of this work-a-day world of ours do
twist the romance out of our lives, as
rainy day straightens out the maiden's
frizzes and curls. Augustus sees his
Angelina through a golden halo. Surely
she is no mortal maiden, with the i'm
perfection of other women! She is an
angel, and he trembles lest she take
unto herself wings and fly to fairer
and purer world. How should he
imagine her at the breakfast-table in
dark print wrapper, her afternoon
frizzes done up in curl-papers, her face,
which has always seemed so fair and
perfect, flushed with being over the
stove getting has breakfast? And l
might make the picture good deal
more disagreeable, but forbear. And
Angelina, who has always imagined her
Augustus to be the handsomest, the
most intelligent, the most chivalric of
conference.-the truest and the most
loving of men, devoted to her, heart
and soul-who has enshrined him in
her heart as little lower than the gods
of mythology Git is real ology to her
no myth about iD how is she to imagine
this hero of hers as he is in his work-a-
day life? And is it to be wondered at
that in the rush and scramble of bread
winning and bread-making the illusion
is destroyed, and Augustus finds, to his
disenchantment, that he is welded not
to an angel but to an ordinary mortal
woman, who has faults and foibles as
plenty as others of her sex? And she,
alas! finds instead of a demigod man
of very ordinary clay, who mayhap
will fret and fume if dinner is not
ready on time and cooked to suit
his lordship as much as if he had
never vowed that she was an angel
and that he adored her. Well, if they
are lucky enough to have plenty of COM
mon sense and genuine affection that
survives the wreck of sentimental illu-
sions they may make very successful
voyage together; but if either, when
weighed in the balance, is found want
ing in these essentials, alas for them /!
Would it not be better, Sybil, for An
gelina to even be an old maid, like
yourself? You say it is not your fault
that you are not farmers wife. i am
afraid, Sybil, that your memory is grow
ing treacherous, for wasn't Brick
top" Dillin'-yes, even more willin'
than ever Barkis was? Poor Bricktop!
he wasn't to blame for his carrotty hair
and pale-blue eyes, or that you refused
to go with him to the eXhilarating ride,
but chose to go " with a handsomer
man." 1t wasn't his fault, so | am
sure it must have been yours; and if
you deliberately chose to be an old
maid, don't ask our sympathy now.
All, those young days mere "golden
days as you say, but we didn't know
it then; we only thought how nice il
would be to be "grown up" to be
school-ma'ams and to be Independent.
| don't think we ever really intended
then to be old maids-and, as for me
If | had intended to, when my Samuel
came so smiling and sweet and tender
and wanted me to walk by his side
always, l could never have kept the
resolution. But | must confess, Sybil
that there have been times when the
matrimonial atmosphere has looked